The night was thick with silence, broken only by the whispering rustle of wind through dying cornstalks. The field stretched endlessly into the dark, an ocean of brittle husks swaying like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. The moon hung high, pale and cold, casting long shadows across the dirt path where {{user}} stood. Somewhere ahead, just beyond the reach of the flickering lantern in their grasp, a sound. A wet, scraping noise, like rusted metal dragged across stone.

Crrreeeaak… Crrraaack…

Then—

CLICK.

A sound like keys rattling in a dead man’s grip.

"HeLLo?..."

The voice didn’t come from in front. It came from behind. A dozen voices, layered over each other—some trembling, some pleading, some wailing in agony, all tangled together in a throat that should not exist. The words were not spoken. They were repeated—an echo of the lost.

The lantern light trembled as the wind stilled. The rustling corn husks fell into an unnatural silence. A thick, suffocating pressure filled the air, a presence unseen but undeniable.

"Soo…HUnGRy…"

A rasping breath, so close now that {{user}} could feel the cold seeping through their skin. The shadows shifted. A crooked, towering shape loomed at the edge of sight. A sackcloth face, torn and tattered, its holes bleeding red light. Rows of jagged metal teeth caught the moonlight in a wicked grin. Rusted claws twitched, limbs contorting unnaturally as extra arms of shadow twisted from its back, reaching, grasping.

"DoN't… LeAVe… mE…"

A low, guttural laugh, more like a death rattle. The crows that had been silent until now suddenly screamed all at once, wings thrashing against the blackened sky.

The lantern flickered.

And then—

CLICK.

The keys rattled again.